


Corn Stalks and Whispered Promises

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bottom Dean, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Smut, late season relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:43:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Written for Wincest Love Week Nov. 2016Day 2Prompt: corn mazeSam and Dean are on a case and get separated in a corn maze. When Dean almost loses Sam he realizes he has to make a move before it's too late.





	

“Sam!” Dean’s panicked voice rang through the empty night. He raced through the thin corridors of corn, batting stalks out of the way.

 

“Sammy!”

 

The night remained silent, not even the sound of crickets to soothe Dean’s nerves. Dean continued to run, his lungs burning with the exertion and the dirt he was kicking up. His brain was chanting,

 

‘ _Not like this. Not now. Now when we’re so close. No. Not Sam. Please, not Sam._ ’

 

It was just starting to work between them. Things were going smooth, they weren’t fighting, and Dean was starting to accept that just maybe things were more brotherly for both of them. He wanted to bring it up to Sam, maybe as a joke, test the waters, but hadn’t gotten the nerve to.

 

Every time he thought of it, he remembered Jess – gone a decade but still such a tender spot for Sam, he remembered Amelia and Madison and all the other people Sam lost – many because of choices Dean made.

 

But they were _better_ and dammit if hiding his emotions wasn’t getting to be more trouble than it was worth. And they weren’t young hunters anymore. Thirty-seven and thirty-three, that’s a ripe old age for men in their line of work. Dean didn’t want to risk Sam, or himself, dying before he could confess his feelings.

 

“Sam!” Dean was hoarse from screaming. He stopped, well and truly lost in the maze, and looked around, close to tears. They’d been hunting a damn werewolf. This shouldn’t have been so hard. They shouldn’t have gotten separated. But when the wolf led them into a corn maze they lost sight of each other. Dean had heard Sam shout, and now nothing.

 

Why wasn’t he _answering?_

 

“Sammy!” Dean shouted one more time, his voice breaking and cutting out. His throat burned, his lungs were on fire, his legs were shaking with the adrenaline and fear. The hand holding his gun was soaked with sweat and shaking – he wasn’t sure he could fire right if he had to.

 

A noise from his right drew Dean’s attention and he raised the gun. The world faded to background noise as he focused – a hunter’s attention – on the corner of the corn corridor he was in.

 

The werewolf came around the corner at full speed, intending to startle him. Without a thought Dean fired off two rounds, one in the chest to slow the monster and a second in the head, square between the eyes. The monster dropped, dead before he hit the ground and Dean took off, heading down the way the werewolf had come from.

 

He felt like he was searching for hours, and everything looked the damn same. Rows of corn, piled seven and eight feet high in some sections, twists and turns, too thick to see between. But—

 

Dean stopped and dropped onto his stomach on the ground. The stalks were thinner down below, allowing him to see through them. Of course it was pitch black, and the moon sure as hell wasn’t giving him any help. He dug his flashlight from his front pocket and shined it between the stalks, squinting and looking for any sign of—

 

Right there. He could see Sam’s jeans first, and a slide of the flashlight beam revealed the rest of Sam, lying on the ground and, oh God. That was a lot of blood.

 

Dean rose and backed up so he was flush against the opposite wall. This was going to suck. Taking a breath, he barreled into the wall separating Sam from him, grimacing and yelling when the rough blades of corn stalk whipped him in the face and hands, scraping his skin like sandpaper.

 

He managed to get through the wall and dropped down again, finding Sam’s body closer. One more wall. He braced himself for more pain and slammed through, knocking corn and leaves out of the way before they could damage his eyes. He stumbled when he broke through, landing on his knees near Sam’s eerily still body.

 

“Sam!” He shouted, scrambling toward Sam and grabbing his shirt. He began to check for the source of the blood on his coat and jeans. He could see some smaller cuts on Sam’s hands and arms, his nose was bleeding, and there was some blood from the back of his head – it was clear he’d been knocked out by a hard fall – but nothing added up to the _amount_ of blood on Sam’s clothing.

 

Dean began to panic when he couldn’t find the source – he needed to stop that bloodflow. Then he smelled it. Corn syrup. Dean squeezed some of the blood on Sam’s jeans and lifted it up to his face. Way too sticky. He stuck one reddened finger in his mouth, hit by the oversweet taste of sugary corn syrup and cocoa – it was fake.

 

Dean could have cried. He shined the flashlight down the way and saw what caused his panic – the maze was rigged with a trip wire that, when triggered, would spill fake blood on the unsuspecting patrons.

 

Dean laughed, giving Sam a hard shake to rouse him. “Sam!”

 

Sam’s nose wrinkled and he blinked a few times, trying to focus. “Dean?”

 

Dean sighed and hauled Sam into a sitting position, wrapping his arms around him despite the sticky mess on Sam’s clothes.

 

“Did you get him?” Sam grumbled, rubbing the back of his head instead of hugging back.

 

“Got him. God, Sammy, I thought I lost you,” Dean whispered, pulling back and setting his hands on Sam’s cheeks.

 

Sam’s eyes narrowed and he chuckled. “Just banged my head, Dean, I’m fine. Come on, let’s oh—“

 

Dean cut him off with a hard kiss, too overwhelmed to really care about the consequences. After a moment of surprise, Dean felt Sam returning the kiss, his large hand moving up to cup Dean’s chin.

 

They separated only when Dean had to breathe. He met Sam’s gaze. “I’m sorry, I—I was scared I lost you for good.”

 

Sam smiled, reaching up and brushing his thumb over Dean’s scruffy cheek. “How long?”

 

“Years… But, I only just recently decided to do something about it, I—I was gonna tell you but when this happened all I was think was that you would die without knowing.”

 

“Me too, you know.”

 

“What?”

 

Sam shrugged. “I fell for you a long time ago. Thought I was weird for it.”

  
Dean shook his head, letting Sam lean in for another hug. “Not weird.” He said softly. He tried to run his hand through Sam’s hair and grimaced when it came away sticky.

 

“No offense dude, but you need a shower.”

 

“I know – I tripped on that damn wire and that’s what let the werewolf get a jump on me. Fucking amateur move.”

 

“You didn’t know. Come on.” Dean stood and helped Sam up. “Any clue how to get out of here?”

 

“Yeah I think so, come on.” Sam turned, noticing the broken down corn stalks. “Did you – Break the maze to get to me?”

 

“I saw the blood and thought you were dying, Sam. Shut up.” Dean shoved him a little and walked back through the hole he broke open. “Help me with the body.”

 

**

 

Dean’s fingers were itching to get back onto Sam’s body by the time they’d burned the body and reached the hotel. Sam was sitting stiff and silent the entire time, careful to touch as little of the leather as he could due to the sticky mess on his clothes.

 

What bugged Dean was the silence. Sam was never a talkative guy, but he always chatted a little after finishing a case, it was a way to relieve the tension that killing – even monsters – put into both of them. This silence was terrifying. Was he regretting what he said? What they did? Sure, it was only a kiss but – they were brothers.

 

Once they were both safely in the motel room, Sam began to strip out of his destroyed clothes, leaving them in a pile near their bags.

 

“I’m gonna shower,” He said softly when he was wearing only his boxers.

 

“Go for it, don’t use all the hot water,” Dean said quietly, tugging his clothes off. He wanted to say something else but had no clue how to even begin. If Sam wanted to ignore what happened, Dean sure as hell wasn’t going to make things awkward for him.

 

Their eyes met for a moment across the room, Sam’s mouth a tight line. He turned and walked into the bathroom without another word.

 

Dean hung his head a little, flopping onto his bed in his boxers. Sam had said he felt the same way. So what was wrong? Why did it change over the course of one burnt corpse? Sure, Dean had sprung it all on him kind of quick – and there was a chance that Sam regretted it but—why tell Dean at all then?

 

Emotions were never Dean’s strong suit, and they always seemed to get in the way at the worst possible time. He wanted to say something to Sam, even came up with a few scenarios in his head to bring up the topic, but when Sam emerged from the bathroom clean and wet, clad in only a towel, Dean said nothing. He rose and slipped past Sam silently, shutting the bathroom door.

 

When he emerged, Dean was surprised to find Sam sitting on Dean’s bed. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxers, clearly ready to sleep, but his face looked haggard, much older than thirty-three.

 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asked, dropping his bag on the bed in front of Sam to dig for clean clothes.

 

“We gotta talk about this, Dean.”

 

“Talk about what?”

 

“You know what?”

 

Dean hesitated, folded t-shirt scrunched in his fist. “Or we could just forget it happened,” He muttered after a moment.

 

“Is that what you want?”

 

Dean looked up, his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth together hard enough to hurt. He stared Sam down, trying to read his face for _anything_.

 

“I’m just trying to do what you want.”

 

“How do you know what I want, Dean?” Sam asked, humor evident in his voice though his face gave away no emotion.

 

“I don’t. But you haven’t spoken to me since the corn field and I—I gotta assume that you, I don’t know, regret it or something.”

 

“Or maybe I was just trying to process it. We’re brothers, Dean. We grew up together, you – you raised me for Godssake.”

 

“I know. You don’t think I know that, Sammy? God, do you know how long I’ve struggled with this shit? How I feel about my own brother? How many times I looked in the mirror and cursed myself for being such a fucking freak? Trust me, I know we’re brothers. It’s all I ever remind myself.”

 

Sam rose slowly. He turned away from Dean for a second, then turned back, closing the gap between them with two long strides.

 

“How long, Dean? How long have you struggled with it?” Sam’s voice was breathy – he was close enough to Dean that he could feel the heat coming off Sam’s body.

 

“Years.”

 

“How many?” Sam pressed. Dean looked down at the clothes in his bag like they held all the secrets of the universe.

 

“Since I was eighteen. It might have started younger, but I put a name to it when I was eighteen. I’ve been lying to myself, saying it’s just cause we were raised different or whatever, but… I’ve been hiding it for almost twenty years.”

 

“I win.”

 

“What?” Dean looked up, surprised by the strange response. Sam smiled softly.   


“I had my first wet dream when I was thirteen, and it was about you. I’d had a crush on you before, but figured it was just because you were so big and brave, a hero when I was just a little geek. When I dreamed about you taking my virginity, I – I realized it was more than that. So I win. I’ve been hiding it longer.”

 

Dean shook his head. “Why?”

 

“Why?” Sam snorted. “Can you imagine what Dad would have done if he’d found out? I would’ve been sent away. And you, I had no idea about you. I thought you’d hate me or beat me up or call me a freak… Or worse, tell me you didn’t love me.”

 

Dean sighed, “You know I’d never do those things, Sammy.”

 

“I was a kid, Dean. I didn’t know what you’d do. I just knew I was a dirty little freak who was in love with his brave big brother and I—Why do you think I ran to Stanford, huh? Ran away and refused to answer your calls? I was trying to get over you.”

  
“And you did,” Dean whispered, and Sam snorted.

 

“Not even close. I loved Jess, I still do. But she was settling. And she knew it. She knew my heart belonged to you, she was willing to accept it. That’s part of why I loved her so much. She pulled me out of some bad places, and she stuck with me no matter what I said or did. I’ve always been in love with you.”

 

Dean laughed a little, weakly. “Sam, if I’d known—“

 

“Shut up,” Sam whispered. He grabbed Dean’s shoulders and shoved him hard, advancing on him as Dean stumbled back.

 

“Sammy, wha—“

 

Sam shoved him hard against the wall and kissed him roughly. “I said shut up.”

 

Their mouths met again and Dean finally got the picture. He grabbed at Sam’s waist and back, moaning softly when Sam bit down on his bottom lip.

 

Sam’s hands were everywhere, it felt like. When they moved down and squeezed Dean’s ass, however, his eyes shot open.

 

“Sam,” He panted against Sam’s mouth.

 

“What?”

 

“Are you sure? I mean, we—“

 

“I’ve been waiting for two decades to sleep with you, Dean. Of course I’m sure. If you want this, I mean—You do want this, right?” Sam stepped back, scanning Dean’s face.

 

“Yes, yeah, of course. I just…” Dean shrugged. “I always figured you’d be the type to move nice and slow.”

 

Sam’s lips curled up into a predatory smirk. “You might know a lot about me, Dean, but you don’t know a damn thing about how I am when I want someone.”

 

The words lit a fire in Dean’s stomach, his cock thickening the rest of the way under the coarse motel towel.

 

“Why don’t you show me?” Dean whispered, the rasp in his tone surprising even him.

 

Sam was on Dean in a second, pulling and tugging at him. The towel was gone almost as soon as Sam pulled Dean off the wall, shoving him onto the unoccupied bed and laying over him.

 

Dean didn't remember Sam removing his clothes, but within a few minutes they were both nude, Sam's cock grinding against his in a delicious pleasure pain as Sam sucked possessive bruises along his neck.

 

Sam moved back, placing an almost chaste kiss on Dean's mouth. "Do you have a condom?"

 

"Yeah, but just go bare, Sam. You know I'm clean."

 

Sam leaned over Dean to grab the lube he knew Dean always dropped in the bedside stand, giving the perfect angle for Dean to lean up, sucking one nipple into his mouth. He sucked and licked at the hard nub, the moans and whimpers from above him causing his cock to jerk eagerly.

 

He released Sam's nipple only when the younger tugged his hair, allowing him to move back down.

 

Dean spread his thighs wide at Sam's insistence, allowing his body to be pulled down so his ass rested in Sam's broad thighs, the coarse hair tickling his sensitive skin.

 

Sam ran his thumb over Dean's exposed hole, prodding at it gently.

 

"How many guys have fucked you?" He asked as he applied lube to his fingers. He pressed the first against Dean's hole, scowling a little when Dean tensed.

 

"None."

 

Sam's head snapped up, taking in Dean's expression.

 

"You're a virgin?"

 

"What? You know I'm not."

 

"No, I mean - you've never been with a guy?" Sam clarified.

 

"I've fucked a few, but no - never had someone take me up the ass," Dean muttered, clearly embarrassed.

 

“Shit, Dean, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Sam moved his hand away and started to get off.

  
Dean shot up, snagging Sam’s wrist. “Hey now, what the hell? Get me horny and then stop?”

 

“You don’t want _me_ to be your first.”

 

“And why not?” Dean questioned, not letting Sam go.

 

“Well, it’s… It’s me. I’m not that kinda guy.”

 

Dean’s brows furrowed. “What the hell do you mean, Sammy?”

 

“I mean you want someone… Not your _brother_ , don’t you?”

 

“I wouldn’t have said to take me bare if I didn’t want you to fuck me, Sam. Come on.” Dean sat up and pulled Sam in for a kiss, more gentle this time.

 

Sam relaxed after a moment, leaning into Dean and letting him pull Sam back over his body.

 

Dean’s hands slid over his bare back and ass, giving a playful squeeze that made Sam chuckle. He pulled back, looking up at Sam.

 

“Do you want me to open myself up for you? I get if you don’t wanna go through all that trouble.”

 

“No, god, not at all. That’s not it. I’ve just never taken anyone’s virginity before.”

 

“You’re thirty years old and you’ve never taken a V-card?”

 

Sam threw Dean a bitchface. “You’re nearly forty and you’re still using the term V-card?”

 

Dean paused, then shrugged, “Touche. Well, I guess I get to be the first.”

 

“I’d like you to be the only.”

 

“Aw, Sam, are you asking for monogamy?” Dean teased, then scowled when Sam looked away.

 

“Hey hey, don’t be embarrassed. Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t do this if I wasn’t okay with monogamy, Sam. I know you.”

 

“And I know _you_.”

 

“You know a guy who was trying to fuck away his feelings because he thought they were bad. Sam, I don’t mind being all yours, really.”

 

“Really?” Sam looked childlike and Dean’s heart swelled.

 

“Really. Now come on, quit with the gushy stuff, I’m losing my boner.” He slapped Sam’s shoulder and pushed him downwards.

 

Sam laughed a little and sat back up, positioning them as before. “You’re sure?”

 

“Jesus, Sam, I’m dying here. Yes, I’m sure. Now for fuck’s sake, fuck me or I’ll oh God!” Dean nearly jerked off the bed when Sam pressed one long, thick finger into his hole.

 

“Or you’ll what, Dean?” Sam teased, stroking along Dean’s inner walls teasingly.

 

“Fuck you,” Dean whispered.

 

“Well, maybe later. I’d really like to fuck you tonight,” Sam responded, working to relax Dean’s body.

 

Dean was a mess. He prided himself on being in control of situations like this, able to speak and command and direct. But Sam - he knew just how to take Dean apart, piece by piece. By the time he had three fingers up Dean’s ass rational thought was out the window. Dean was writhing, speaking in broken sentences, begging for more, for Sam to take him, touch him, get inside him.

 

Finally, he reached down, gripping Sam’s wrist to stop the torturously slow stretching of his hole. “I think I’m ready,” He panted.

 

“Dean, I don’t wanna hurt you,” Sam argued. Dean met his gaze and smirked a little. “I’m a big boy Sam. I like a little pain. And if you keep finger fucking me I’m gonna come before we even have sex.”

 

Sam laughed a little and nodded, slowly withdrawing his fingers. Dean whimpered despite it being at his request; it felt odd to be so empty. He lifted himself up on his elbows to watch Sam spread lube over his own cock, the tip a deep violet, weeping precome quick enough that Dean wondered how long Sam was gonna last.

 

“Hey, last chance to back out,” Sam whispered, his head hung.

 

“Not a chance, Sammy. Come on.” Dean laid flat again and and wiggled his hips further onto Sam’s thighs, pulling his legs further apart. “Is this good for you?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam said. He smiled at Dean gently before shifting.

 

One big hand curled around Dean’s calf, lifting his leg up to expose his hole a little further. He pressed the blunt tip of his cock against Dean’s entrance and began to push in, watching Dean for any sign of discomfort.

 

Dean’s eyes slipped shut, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth as a low groan bubbled from his throat. He slid his hands down the mattress until he found Sam’s thighs, squeezing gently as Sam pressed deeper.

 

Inch by inch Sam pressed in, finally bottoming out and slumping over Dean’s body. Their eyes met and Dean smiled softly, freeing his lip and reaching up. He curled his arms loosely over Sam’s shoulders, dragging him down for a kiss while Sam let his body get used to intrusion.

 

“Move, please,” Dean whispered against his mouth after a few moments.

 

Sam pressed gentle kisses over Dean’s neck and shoulders as he began to pump his hips, pulling his cock out until the tip caught on Dean’s rim before sliding back in, agonizingly slow.

 

Dean moaned gently, rutting his hips up in time to Sam’s thrusts. He knew he wasn’t going to last long and wanted to savor every second of this.

 

As predicted, Dean felt his orgasm growing close much too soon. He cried out softly, arching his back high. “Sam, I—“

  
Sam lifted himself up, leaning back to speed up the pace of his thrusts. He wrapped his hand around Dean’s cock, pumping it in time to his thrusts.

  
“Come on, Dean,” Sam panted, their eyes meeting over Dean’s splayed body.

 

Dean’s mouth opened in a silent moan, eyes squeezed shut. His body went rigid, back arched as he came, ropes of come splashing over his stomach as Sam continued to pump into his body.

 

He’d barely opened his eyes when Sam’s orgasm hit, his hips jerking erratically before stilling, head tossed back. Dean smiled sleepily, grinding down on Sam’s cock as he was filled, a sensation that warmed him and caused his softening cock to twitch in Sam’s hand. He reached up, running his hands over Sam’s heaving chest, moaning quietly.

 

Though their position was comfortable, Dean was the first to move, sitting up a little and letting his legs fall to the bed. Sam was slumped over him, head hung and hair hiding his face. Dean could see his shoulders heaving as he struggled to catch his breath.

 

“Come here,” Dean whispered raggedly, gripping Sam’s bicep and tugging. Sam moved with him, carefully pulling out before lying next to him, eyes half closed.

 

Snagging Sam’s shirt from the floor, Dean used it to wipe his chest clean before tossing it aside and rolling to face Sam, his cheeks reddening when he saw Sam watching him with an intense gaze.

  
“What?”

 

“Nothing… Can’t believe we did that.”

 

“You don’t – Regret it, do you?” Dean worried, panic rising in his throat.

 

“God, no. No. I’ve just been picturing it for so many years, it feels like a dream that’s it’s actually happening.”

 

Dean smiled a little. He pressed a kiss to Sam’s mouth and set his hand on his hip, giving a firm squeeze.

 

“No dream. I’m right here, Sam. I always will be.”

 

“I know you will. You promised. When we were kids.” Sam said softly, his eyes growing heavy.

 

Dean pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead, allowing his younger brother to snuggle against his side. “I know I did. I meant it then and I do now. You’ll always have me, Sam.” He promised.

 

Sam’s breathing evened out shortly after that. Dean looked down, watching his brother – and now lover – sleep with a soft smile until his own exhaustion won out.


End file.
